For my tlist. I love you.

***

He wakes up to warm heat of sunlight passing through the window, curtains hung in loose folds apart revealing a mass of morning sunshine hitting his pale skin. The sun was at point and it only meant one thing.

Noontime.

He feels emptiness but he can’t guess why. He struggles to sit up realizing that he isn’t home; he looks at the white walls and the dextrose connected to him, until his eyes lands upon the nurse, closing the curtains to cover him from the sun's rays.

“Good morning.” The nurse greets him with a smile, checking his stats on a machine beside the hospital table.

“How are you feeling?”

“I'm having a slight headache, but I think I’m good.” He assures.

“Do you remember anything before falling asleep?”

He shakes his head. He tried to remember something but nothing comes up, only an image of him, limbs sprawled across the bed peacefully sleeping.

“Listen, I just want to tell you that you have selective amnesia. You got this because of an accident along with the trauma from the accident together with the side effects of the chemicals that got into your body. You may not remember anything for now, but as you see things or your friends and other clues, you might be able to remember and get all your memories back in no time. And don’t you worry, this only temporary as Doctor Yixing says. You’ll be good as new in a few weeks, or in worse cases, months.”

Yixing? Sounds familiar. He scrunches his nose in confusion.

Wondering why he’s feeling empty ever since he woke up, he thinks about what he is missing.

“How long was I asleep?”

“A few days. Three counting today. It's good to see you have finally woken up.” The nurse smiles at him, finally relieved to see her patient awake.

“What happened to me? The accident, I mean. What happened?”

The nurse stares at him for a while, with sad eyes, hesitating to answer his question.

“I’m not sure I can tell you this. Your friends told me they’re the ones to tell you. Sorry.” He nods in response as he thought of his friends, whoever they are.

“They’ll be coming here soon, wait for them, alright?”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Here’s the remote and one of your friends left a good book for you, if you ever get bored while waiting.” She points at the bedside table. He sees a book together with the television remote.

“Press the button here when you feel something unusual or something painful. For now, you cleared for this observation.” She grins before completely closing the door. He sighs, looking at every corner of his hospital ward.

He opens the television and he sees a news about a suicide bombing on a train. He ignores it but almost every channel been’s talking about it. He stops on one channel, lowering the volume and leaving the news be.

He puts down the remote, eyes fixated on the window. He sighs as he lowers his head, trying to remember what he has been missing out, because the emptiness inside was bothering.

But as expected, there’s nothing. He can’t remember anything.

But he feels like it was something important.

He shakes his head, shrugging off the thought. He turns the volume up and shifts to a more comfortable position before watching.

“—incident is being treated as an act of terrorism, the committee spokesman Lee Jae Yeol said.

The bombing took place at 12:50 KST on the railway between stations Jochiwon and Cheonan, the train coming from Busan. It is ‘thought to have been carried out by two male suicide bombers,’ according to the anti-terrorism committee's statement.

“At 12:50 we got informed that a boom or a blast was heard in the building near the railway station of Cheonan. The train stopped mid-track and smoke was reported visible not far from Cheonan,” Park Soo Yeol, a police spokesperson said, and the news were according to Hyuk Sin, head of police.

The power of the explosion between Cheonan and Jochiwon stations was equivalent to at least 10 kg TNT, according to Soo Ra, and the explosive device was stuffed with pieces of scrap metal. The Committee said that an undetonated F-1 grenade was also found at the scene, and five othe worn out tear-gas grenades.

Interfax’s between two stations, ‘suicide bombers must have planned this well to avoid immediate public news, also we found two more terrorists back at Cheonan station, completely shutting down the system, causing all the trains to stop by 11:14am.’

The  Cheonan and Jochiwon region has declared this day as the third day of mourning for the victims of the mid-railway station blast as 55 people were injured, mostly still unconscious at the hospital of Seoul either due to trauma, inhalation of too much tear-gas, or bomb chemicals. The other 216 on board died due to gun shots, bomb explosion, and stamp—”

Kyungsoo turns off the television, not wiping the tears on his face.

He remembers.

Before he can completely press the nurse call, his friends barged in with smiling faces. But falters quickly when they see him crying.

As far as he can remember, Chanyeol, his best friend— slowly paced towards him, the others— the cult following behind.

“Kyungsoo—”

“No, don’t tell me, I already know.” He says in a low voice, finally rubbing his eyes. But the pain wasn’t something he can tolerate; it was sharp, fresh, causing him to completely break down, not minding the people around him.

“No!” Kyungsoo shrieks, slamming himself on the bed, not caring even the fluids from his dextrose became red. “No!” He repeats with bloodshot eyes and trembling body. He slams himself, punching the bed, flipping everything he could find.

He can hear Sehun and Tao’s subdued sobs from a short distance as their hyungs stops them from coming near him.

He cries.

His friends started to cry with him while pinning him back down on the bed as he lost control and calls the nurse. He shouts at his friends telling them to leave him alone; he rips the dextrose away, destroying his skin, but it was nothing compared to his broken heart.

He cries.

“Jongin.”